


Buckle

by nergregga



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Slash, Self-Denial, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:38:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4335956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nergregga/pseuds/nergregga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock is in control</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buckle

“Lovely.”

It is an absurd, emotional word to apply to his commanding officer, but it however perfectly covers the act of James Kirk tugging his shirt over his head, but there is no arousal. The discarded shirt reveals a golden chest. It’s smooth and hairless, Something Spock knows his commanding officer takes great pride in having achieved, and equally great pains to maintain. There have been occasions, where certain members of the bridge crew, have accused their Captain of being vain. Spock is not among them. Secretly, and with a certain inevitable shame, he can't get enough of the sight. He has tried to tell himself that an appreciation for beauty isn't something Surak would fault him for, but he knows that the urges that course through him as a result are. He tells himself that this, like his Kahs-wan, is a test of his character. He will bathe with Jim, and he will resist temptation. The bunched up shirt misses the bench, and Jim bends down to pick it up. The tight fabric of his pants, is stretched over his ass in the process. Spock’s cock doesn't harden.

 

“Well, Mr Spock. Neither of us want to attend this pointless thing, especially after what happened, but stalling won't get us out of it. We have half an hour to get ready,” Jim says, smiling reassuringly at Spock’s still fully clothed form.

He reaches out, and claps Spock on the shoulder.

“I’m sure you have nothing to be ashamed of,” he adds.

Spock is not ashamed of his body. That would be illogical; he has it perfectly under control. There will be no embarrassment.

“35 minutes and 45 seconds to be exact, Captain,” Spock says, because he doesn't know what else to say, then he begins to undress.

Jim’s gaze glides across his skin, almost like a touch. Spock doesn't shudder, and there is absolutely nothing for Jim to notice, and smile at. He places his own discarded shirts neatly down next to Jim’s. The contrast is stark, and Jim chuckles, bends down, and rearranges his own to match Spock’s.

“There,” he says, “Now people can't say I set a bad example.”

“I can't imagine who would, Captain,” Spock says.

That is a blatant lie, and Spock can almost hear Surak turn over in his grave, but that image is illogical, maybe even more so than the lie itself.

“I can,” Jim says in a derisive tone, and eyes the clean dress uniform grumpily.

He slumps down on the bench, and looks up at Spock. His face is grim, and his words bitter,

“How on earth was I supposed to know that “How’s the Wife?” means, “I want to make love to her,” on this planet?”

A small huff precedes a muttered tirade,

“Did you see him ogling Uhura? He does that so openly, yet I’m the one “who can’t control his libido” I’ll tell you what, Spock, I’m gonna punch that smug grin off of his face, if he ever looks at a member of my crew like that again.”

Even though he feels that such an action would go against the principals of diplomacy Spock keeps it to himself. Jim needs to rant, and Spock can't really blame him. Jim harrumphs, and opens his pants. He rubs his stomach where the hidden button has been, and sighs in relief. Evidently, he has been waiting to do that all day. Why he doesn't simply ask for slightly larger pants is a mystery to Spock; not that he in any way disapproves of tight pants. Jim still looks unhappy. He looks down at the floor, the frown threatening to become permanent.

“It was not entirely your fault, Captain,” Spock says.

Jim looks sharply up at him with narrowed eyes; not the desired reaction, Spock tries again,

“You cannot be expected to familiarize yourself with every particular details, of what constitutes polite behavior on every planet you visit. You are after all, only human.”

“Gee thanks, Spock,” Jim says grumpily, throwing a sock at him.

Spock catches it, and tucks it into Jim’s boot

“You are welcome.”

He sees a slight smile appear on Jim’s face, as it always does when Spock pretends he doesn't understand sarcasm. Spock does that a lot, just to see that smile; illogical as that action probably is.

“Though, I think you meant: peculiar details, instead of particular,” Jim says, smiling a bit too wide at his own joke.

A smile tugs at the corners of Spock’s mouth. He raises an eyebrow.

“I did not,” he says in mock indignation.

This provokes another smile; softer this time.

“Of course you didn’t. How silly of me,” Jim says mildly, returning his attention to undressing.

His every move captivates Spock’s attention. As Jim's back ripples, when he bends to pull his pants off, Spock knows that someday his resolve will buckle. He wonders briefly if today is the day where that happens, but there have been countless other days, where his loins have burned as they do now, and his control has always never buckled on those occasions. There is no logical reason why it should now. He concentrates on undressing. Jim waits for him to finish.

“I’m sorry about this Spock. I tried explaining Vulcan physiology to him…” Jim says.

Spock cuts him off. Of all things He has had to do under Jim’s command, this is hardly the worst.

“There is no need to apologize, Captain. Had we not consented, we would have had an diplomatic incident on our hands, and Komack would not have been pleased,” he says looking up; right at Jim’s cock.

“Still, who knew ritual cleansing meant communal showers?”

Spock doesn't answer as he walks next to Jim over to the ancient looking plumbing. Spock turns one of the knobs. The pipes gurgle; a deep sound, as if the facilities haven't been used in a long time. It takes 3.6 seconds for the water to start running, and he has to wait a another moment until it reaches an acceptable temperature. Next to him, Jim yelps, and steps back from the spray. “

Cold!,” he says, frowning at the shower head.

He reaches a hand in to Spock's shower, and leaves it there for a moment. Spock looks at the well manicured fingernails, at the hand, the arm, chest, and groin of his best friend, thanking Surak again for the mental disciplines that allow him to so easily conceal his arousal, If there were any to conceal. Jim’s eyes drift to the knobs, and smacks his hand briefly against his forehead. He rolls his eyes, and smiles a little embarrassed smile at Spock before turning the correct knob.

Spock stands under the spray, not enjoying the bite of the too hard droplets. Jim moans slightly beside him, clearly taking pleasure in this wasteful behavior. Spock does not, and suspects he never will, but he is glad of the distraction, as he watches the water run down Jim’s torso, along his penis before hitting the floor in a thin stream. Jim turns his head to smile at Spock, who allows his eyes to soften. Again, the word "lovely" flows through Spock's mind. Spock’s human half tries to prompt Spock to tell his friend this, and all the other things, he keeps safely guarded by his Vulcan control, but he doesn’t. The water still pelts him, and he is uncertain of what to do next. He watches Jim reach over and dispense shampoo into his hands. Spock does the same, copying Jim as he lathers up his hair. He is however puzzled by the amount of suds, the dispensed amount of shampoo yields. There is too much of it all of a sudden, and application of water seems to make things worse, so he turns it off, while he tries to wipe his eyes. He is not successful. The soap runs down his face. It stings his eyes, enters his mouth and he splutters. Most undignified for a Vulcan, he thinks. He hears Jim choke back a giggle. With a raised eyebrow, he turns his head to look at Jim. The giggling turn in to all out guffaws. The laughter is pure light, and Spock secretly delights in instilling it, even though the suds taste bitter, and his eyes have teared up.

“Come here, let me help” Jim says, when he can manage to do so.

He reaches up, and scoops the suds away from Spock’s face. His fingers trace his cheek in a feather light caress. When the touch doesn't cause any flinching, he does it again, a little firmer. Normally, Spock doesn't allow anybody to touch him like that, but he is alone with Jim, and grants him this small indulgence. Spock’s eyes drift shut, but there is no visible arousal, no twitching of his sheath. His cock head has not at that moment started to protrude from it, at least not very much of it.

“Oh, Spock,” Jim whispers, barely more than a breath.

The hand drops from his face, and Spock wills his erection away. There is an almost silent sob of “please” beside him, and he opens his eyes. He is looking into intense hazel eyes, but he doesn't do what they beg of him. After a moment a look of resignation crosses Jim’s face. He shrugs and turns to away, freezes, and looks down. Jim’s cock is semi erect. They both look at it, Jim in slight consternation, Spock in fascination. The human genital arrangement has always struck him as, vulnerable, but he can clearly see the advantages of them, as a display of virility. Jim easily embodies everything masculine, and virile; he is the perfect example of the very essence of manhood. That is why Spock looks, and for no other reason. Their eyes meet again. There is no embarrassment on Jim’s face.

"I'm sorry, Spock. I don't know what has gotten into it today," he says.

"I did not know it possessed a consciousness of its own."

Jim smiles, “Sometimes I swear it does.”

He is fully erect now. The atmosphere crackles between them. Jim’s cock twitches, as they both look at it. They catch each other’s eyes again. Slowly, almost on its own accord Jim’s hand drifts lower. He takes himself in hand, and starts stroking his cock. Up, and down, pushing the foreskin over the rosy head. It is a fascinating sight, and Spock is reduced to staring. His Vulcan controls are stretched almost to their limits, as he watches Jim, but they hold. They keep looking into each other's eyes. Jim’s lips are parted, and his eyes are half hooded. He licks his lips. Spock’s human half is roaring: “Take him,” but his controls continue not to buckle, even as he rubs his renewed erection. He takes pride in this, even though his Vulcan half tells him, he is acting emotionally, but he can't help looking, at that lovely erect cock. The tip is glistening with pre-cum. His human has never looked more alluring, than he does right now. He looks lovely. No, utterly beautiful, Spock thinks, increasing the speed of his strokes. It devastates him that he cannot simply allow himself to reach out, and give them both what they desire. So he looks, filling his mind with images of Jim’s pleasure. The golden head lolls back, as his body tenses. Jim shudders, his seed erupts from his cock, and covers his chest, and stomach in thick ropes. It should be a vulgar, and repulsive sight, but Spock is overwhelmed by the beauty of his still trembling friend. Words from deep beneath his control escapes his lips, as he, himself spill all over his hand.

“You are beautiful, T’hy’la!”

The words hang in the air, vibrating like lyre strings plucked by a tentative finger. Jim’s head snaps back up. He stares at Spock for a moment in stunned awe, and confusion, then he averts his eyes. Inside, Spock’s human half is screaming at him; he cannot have this beautiful moment ruined by shame. He is over by Jim’s side before his Vulcan half can protest. Stiffening for a moment his golden human looks up. His hazel eyes uncertain. Spock trails his fingers along his cheek, down his neck, chest, finally encircling his friend in his arms. Instantly Jim relaxes against him, wrapping his own arms around Spock. It’s the first time, Spock has actively held Jim, and the sensation is foreign, but pleasant. They hold each other until Jim laughs softly, and Spock can feel the vibration through his skin.

“Jim?” The golden human looks up, eyes twinkling.

“Just imagining what Bones would say if he could see us,”

For a brief moment Spock can almost see the stunned expression on the older man’s face, and the endless stream of emotional observations, and conclusions, that is likely to follow the sight of two of the good doctor’s closest friends; naked, and embracing under a shower. Spock is almost sure, it would please him, but it is hard to predict that particular human’s thought patterns.

“Don’t tell him, by the way. He would never let us live it down, or he would send us for psych evaluation, or both,” Jim adds and presses his lips to Spock’s sternum; not quite a kiss, just a brief touch of lips.

Something deep inside Spock; something that is not Human, or Vulcan, but uniquely his own, fills with warmth. He sighs. Jim looks up, and Spock leans closer. There is no struggle any more; there doesn't have to be. There is a love, that runs far beneath the conflict of Vulcan, and Human instincts, and he finds, that he is not ashamed of that emotion. He leans closer still.

 

 


End file.
